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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512791">Goodnight You Moonlight Lady</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyTyrant/pseuds/LonelyTyrant'>LonelyTyrant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Cowboys &amp; Cowgirls, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, John Needs A Hug, Native American Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Period-Typical Racism, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Young John Marston</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:27:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyTyrant/pseuds/LonelyTyrant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During the one year hiatus from the gang John Marston finds himself a wanderer left alone to lick his wounds. After accepting a life of solitude and boozing he finds himself wrapped up in the chaotic life of a stoic outlaw woman by the name of Velda Medicine crow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Marston/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Strangers in a new town</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first fic ever so please be kind! Title inspired by Sweet Baby James by James Taylor</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>May 1st 1896<br/>
The plains were radiant, fields of wheat golden and bright from April’s unrelenting rain. The green of the trees violently green. The rolling hills stood eerily still in the cool evening. The sky had just started to darken, night being greeted by screaming cicadas. The scenery a stark contrast to the boisterous dirt roads of Bulls Run, a small livestock town located in a large Indian Provence. </p><p>  John Marston noted how fast the sweet smell of endless fields of wheat was tainted by the sickly smell of cow shit and vomit. No matter how much he tried he could never quite adjust to the ever present filth that lingered in the air as he traveled from one shit town to the next. Still drunk from his affairs a town over and exhausted from an aimless full days ride he hitched his horse outside Abels Saloon, giving his mare a quick brush before stumbling inside the swinging doors.</p><p>  Senses assaulted by the smell of stale smoke and whiskey John smiled feeling as at home as he could given the circumstances. The two story building was swollen with life, patrons young and old. An old man covered in furs despite the heat sat alone at a table, nursing a beer. The barman shined a glass looking pleased with the amount of business. John squeezed between two men At the bar who were far too drunk to mind.</p><p>  “Whiskey please. And a room if you got one” John rasped harsher than usual having not spoken in a few days. As he sat a few coins on the bar the barman handed him a glass with a shot and a key, he put his coin purse back in his pocket. He threw the drink back, smiling at the familiar burn. That’s when he heard a commotion at the poker table.<br/>
“You bitch! You cheated! I saw it with my own two eyes!” A young man yelled across the table at someone who’s back was towards the bar. Scooping up the pot winnings as the other men at the table acted defeated, the winner spoke,<br/>
“Listen Henry, I know it ain’t easy admitting you got beat by a girl but you better decide if you wanna keep your fingers before you ever decide to accuse me of being a cheat again.” The woman threw her winnings into a velvet coin purse, shoving it into the breast pocket of her tan hide jacket.<br/>
“Dirty goddamn redskin! I outta-“<br/>
The man was swiftly cut off by the click of a gun<br/>
“You best be choosing your next words very carefully Henry. Wouldn’t want your friends here having to scrape you off the walls.” The woman spoke in a low growl through gritted teeth. As John took another shot he heard the barman shout.<br/>
“That’s enough, Miss M.! I will not tolerate another night of you threatening my customers!” The girl turned around bolstering her gun, calmly putting her hands up. She turned around the Henry and took a dramatic bow. “Always a pleasure gentlemen.” She walked towards the bar, taking a stand next to John. Henry stormed out of the saloon with a huff. </p><p>  “Apologies, Abel.” The woman spoke much softer to the barman, a Jekyll and Hyde transformation right before Johns eyes. “You know I only threaten the patrons that don’t tip!” Abel, the barman laughed, throwing a rag at the woman in a teasing manner, he hands her a full bottle of whiskey as she slams some of her poker earning on the bar. </p><p>  John swayed a little as he turned towards the young woman. Thick, waist length brown hair splayed over her shoulders. She pushed a lock from her eyes. Just as John noticed a deep scar the stretched from one side of her hairline across her forehead he heard someone behind him.<br/>
“You must be new in town.” The voice squeaked, he turned to face a rough looking working girl that the voice belonged to.<br/>
“You must be. Surely I’d remember a face like yours.” The woman purred fanning her face that was covered in sores.<br/>
“I’m just passing through town.” John replied, taking another drink.<br/>
The working girl looked impatient “Well are you gonna buy a lady a drink or just stand there looking good?”<br/>
John chuckled slightly. Feeling drunk and bitter he looked her up and down “I appreciate the compliment but I don’t see any lady ‘round here.”<br/>
Before he could blink the woman slapped him across the face, forcing him into the long haired woman who had beat Henry in poker. She had helped him gain his balance as the saloon girl stalked off. “Easy there.” She said as he shook her hands off him. “I dare say you sure know how to speak to women.” She laughed nodding her head towards the prostitute. John smiled, too drunk to be embarrassed. He rubbed his cheek slightly, as she held out her hand towards him. He shook it with a nod and she refilled his glass with her bottle. “Thanks, Miss-” he said holding his cup to cheers “Velda.” She spoke, “Friends call me Vee. She was right though you must be new here cause I ain’t ever seen you ‘round before.”<br/>
He looked to Velda, observing her features trying to avoid looking at her forehead scar. “I’m John.”</p><p>  After a few minutes of silence between them and a few more drinks John looked at his newfound drinking buddy. “So did you do it?” He looked to her as she raised her eyebrows at the question.<br/>
“Do what?”<br/>
“Did you cheat those fellers at poker?”<br/>
She laughed, obnoxiously slapping a hand on Johns shoulder. “Course I did! That Henry is a fool! Been three nights in a row I took him for all that he had!”<br/>
He laughed and looked at her with admiration. Despite the scar she was quite beautiful in an exotic way. Dark olive skin and light brown eyes that were the amber color of Scottish whiskey. She looked quite young.<br/>
“If you don’t mind my asking, Miss Vee, are you old enough to be in this here saloon? You look barely sixteen!” She looked at him suspiciously.<br/>
“I am twenty, not that you should be asking ladies their age. How old are you?”<br/>
“Twenty two.” John replied and licked his lips after yet another glass of whiskey. He looked at her again this time slowly, hungry, from the floor up. “Miss Vee forgive me but what’s a pretty thing like you doing in this pig shit town?.” Velda rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You flatter me John but I’m afraid I have to retire from the night. That’s conversation for another time. Be safe on your travels Mr. Marston.”<br/>
John watched her backside as she sauntered off to a room upstairs. As he reached for his coin purse his mouth dropped at its absense in his pocket. After a moment of trying to think through his drunken state his blood ran cold.<br/>
He never told that Velda woman his last name.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don’t entirely know where I’m going with this story so if anyone who reads happens to have any requests I’m open to it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Vexing women and foul men</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really enjoy when writers make playlists for their fics so I’ll add a song each chapter that fits the mood! It will come back/ Hozier</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>May 2nd 1896<br/>
In the early morning hours the Abels Saloon had not yet quieted down. The whole place filled with patrons getting more drunk and more rowdy. John Marston sat smoking a cigarette, looking up at the rooms on the second floor, plotting his retribution. That Velda woman might have known his name but she clearly hadn’t known he himself had rented a room for the night. Looking up from under his hat, smoke rising up and snaking across the brim he had made his decision. After stamping his cigarette out he stalked up the stairs. Only two rooms. He drunkenly fumbled the key out of his pocket to see his room number. That left the only other door. He knocked a rhythm of seven. When there was no reply he kicked the door, breaking the frame. There stood a shocked looking Velda divvying up the spoils of Johns coin purse with the working woman who had slapped him earlier.<br/>
“Don’t want no trouble just return my money and I’ll forget this ever happened.”<br/>
Velda thought for a moment chewing her lower lip. She grabbed the money from the working girl and shoved it into his leather purse. She walked over to him looking at the floor. As John reached out, in one swift motion Velda kneed him in the crotch then whipped him in the head with the handle of her nickel plated cattleman revolver. John crashed to the ground in the doorway, reflexes weakened by the whiskey.<br/>
“Run Ida!” Velda barked at the working girl. They quickly hopped over Johns limp body, trying to push through the crowd on the stairs. John cursed and stood up wobbling as he touched his now bleeding temple. He peered over the balcony seeing Veldas hair just as she ran out the swinging doors. John scurried to the stairs and slipped on his second down sliding on his ass the rest of the way.</p><p>   As John exited the saloon he fumbled with the volcanic pistol in his holster all the while looking for any sign of the vexing women who robbed him. He ran down the alley following the freshest footprints in the mud he bent down in the middle of the dark to pick up his coin purse abandoned in the mud, seemingly full of his money he stood up and heard a gun click behind his head. “Turn around slowly.” The voice he recognized. It was the same growl Velda used when she threatened Henry earlier. It reminded him of the way Arthur used to puff up his chest and lower his voice to be intimidating.</p><p>  “I’ve seen your bounty posters in two states John Marston. Wanted for a train robbery and your affiliation with Dutch Van der Lind. I know who you are what I don’t know is why you’ve followed me through the past three towns.” Velda spit on the ground next to Johns feet. “I ain’t-“<br/>
“I go to a town for a few days then I see you turn up. I leave go to the next and then you turn up again. Seems a bit like following someone to me.” Velda interrupted. “Now I know you can’t be working for my sheep fucking granddaddy because you are leaving more dead bodies in your wake than there are stars in the sky. You following me, bounty hunters following you. It’s all bad business.”</p><p>  “So what I suggest-“ Velda stops talking being alerted to someone else’s presence<br/>
“You!” She whipped around fast, hair whipping John in the face softly. He still had his hands up when he saw the figure of a man in the alley. It was Henry, the man Velda had cheated hours earlier. He stumbled forward, drunker than before.</p><p>  “Figures we’d find you robbing another poor bastard.” Veldas gun now pointed at Henry “We?” Just then the sound of a shotgun clacking a shell in the chamber echoed behind her head. She turned to see a clone of Henry, covered in more dirt with nastier teeth. It must have been one of Henry’s many brothers. The brother nudged John on the shoulder “You get outta here mister we’ll take care of her.” John looked to Velda. Her eyes barely visible in the dark but he could see the desperation. Aimed at no one in particular. He started towards the opening of the alley, shoving his leather purse into his breast pocket as he heard Henry’s voice “Oh we will take care of her real good.” As John rounded the corner he heard a scream from Velda cut short. Followed by the sound of a struggle.</p><p>  It hadn’t mattered that he hadn’t been with the gang in weeks. He still heard Dutch’s voice echoing in his head ‘We save fellers as need saving’ he cursed under his breath as he took his pistol out and turned around to aid the woman that had robbed him an hour before. Just as he stalked up he saw Henry ripping open Veldas jacket exposing her brazier she screamed underneath his hand that covered her mouth, wriggling from his grasp unable to escape. Henry’s brother had his shotgun aimed at the ground, licking his lips. John shouted turning all of there attention towards him. The brother started to aim his shotgun and John took the shot. The man fell to the mud with an unceremonious squish, a new hole in his head. Henry screamed, distracted, his grip on Velda faltered and she grabbed her hunting knife and plunged it into Henry’s crotch leaving the knife stuck. He fell to the grown screaming. “You stupid bitch! I’m gon’ kill you! I’m gon’ kill you!” </p><p>  John grabbed her hand and pulled Velda out of the alley. “Are you okay?” She nods anxiously trying to hold her hide jacket closed. John didn’t have time to say anything else before they heard heard someone yell. “Stop! The law is on the way!” He ran towards his mare, groaning and cursing the fact that he would no longer be sleeping in a bed that night. Velda looked around but her horse was no where in sight. “C’mere!” John rasped. Velda looked apprehensive before taking Johns hand and swinging herself behind him. </p><p>  John road hard for maybe a half hour, Velda making short work of the law that had followed. Once they could no longer see wheat fields John slowed at a fork in the road, early morning chill in the air, the stars still upon them. Velda held on to Johns back keeping a distance between their bodies as her bare skin still exposed. He hopped off the mare and gave her a hand down, avoiding looking to the goosebumps on her chest. She hopped off beside him, clutching her coat together in an attempt to cover herself. John dug through his saddlebag, handing her a flannel. She took it graciously with a nod and turned around. Johns eyes lingered on her back, in the light of the moon he could just make out the large whelped scars on her back. Scars that could only have been made from a whip. As Velda finished buttoning the oversized flannel she turned to John and he quickly pretended to be rummaging through his saddlebag again. </p><p>  “So. How can I trust that you weren’t following me?” John turned “I reckon you ain’t got any other option. Is there anywhere you want me to take you?” She chewed on her lips, reaching for her satchel that wasn’t there. John lit a cigarette, offering it to her. She took a long drag, bashfully shaking her head no. John sighed rubbing his sore temple. “Sorry about that.” Velda offered. John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ain’t no use trying to find another town right now. I got a spare bedroll and I don’t think you’re in any position to deny it seeings how we are both fugitives now.”</p><p>  “The way I see it,” Velma sighed. “You and I were both fugitives before all that business.” John looked to her with a raised eyebrow. “I done a lot more bad than cheat those bastards in poker Mr. Marston.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A church town and a pair of sinners</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John and Velda on the run!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This whole story is all because pixels are hot.<br/>In the woods somewhere/ Hozier</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>May 2nd 1896<br/>  John woke midday and was relieved to find he hadn’t been robbed yet again. The birds sung to each other with a desperation in the spring heat, a breeze could be seen in the swaying of the trees but the heat in the air felt stagnant and sticky. He removed himself from his bedroll and was greeted by the smell of coffee. </p><p>  He sat on the ground with his elbows on his knees and looked to a Velda a few feet away counting her money in her velvet coin purse. Her long hair was tangled and a few bits of grass weaved in the strands making her look like a feral woman. Raised by wild animals. John looked at her knuckles, bruises kissed them, remnants of a recent fight. He looked at her frame too small for his large flannel she now wore, the top buttons undone to stave off the heat. He tried to look away from the bronze skin showing a tease of cleavage. He finally did, ashamed of having such thoughts of a woman who experienced what she had in the early morning of that day. </p><p>  “Morning Mr. Marston.” She said without looking up. “Morning Miss. Velda.” <br/>“I told ya my friends call me Vee.” <br/>“Alright Miss. Vee. What is your last name anyway?” Velda looked up with a stone cold expression. “Medicine Crow. Don’t use that name much. Don’t use Velda much either. Seems like she died long time ago. Mostly I just let folk call me whatever they come up with. Helps with being on the run.” John nodded looking up to her scar again before looking away. “Well what now?”</p><p>  The pair had agreed to slink into a town just south of Bulls Run to hear if there was any news regarding their crimes. Johns mare lazily trotted up to a sign that read “Welcome to blue creek home of the righteous” just pass the sign stood the biggest church Velda had ever seen followed by the smallest of towns. A doctors office, train station and general store were the only other standing businesses. No saloon or bathhouse. Of course a church town would be the most boring. </p><p>  John went to check the train station and Velda the general store as she had left all of her possessions in Bulls Run. They agreed to meet back at the church in an hour. Velda made short chat with the shop keep before browsing the catalogue purchasing a new satchel, a spare change of trousers, a skirt, a hide coat, and box of licorice. She walked towards the church terribly anxious. She had spent the last three years avoiding people like the plague unless it was to rob them. Now she had no choice but to trust a known and wanted outlaw. The thought was hard to grasp but she had to keep reminding herself she too, was known and wanted.</p><p>  John stood against a fence post smoking a cigarette he nodded as Velda approached. “Anything?” “Shop keep seemed clueless. You?” <br/>John scratched his stubble and held out a bounty poster but it wasn’t for the both of them. </p><p>WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE <br/>WANTON WOMAN VELDA O. MEDICINE CROW<br/>WANTED FOR THE MURDER OF ERNEST HOOPER</p><p>  “Dead or alive!?” Velda looked around, paranoid.<br/>“Did he deserve it?” “What?” <br/>“That feller you killed. Did he deserve it?”<br/>Velda looked John dead in the eyes, goosebumps covering her skin despite the heat. She nodded not breaking eye contact. The Wild look in her eyes so intense it made John shudder. “C’mon. I know a place we can lie low for a while.”</p><p>  They road into the woods for over an hour. Velda thinking surely they were lost when they came upon a small cottage that looked near collapse. “Is this where you take all your fellow partners in crime?” John chuckled before hitching his horse and opening the door. “You gonna stand out there all day?” Velda followed into the small homestead.</p><p>  After a few hours of nervous silence Velda had cleaned up as much as possible and changed into her new skirt while John carved X’s into bullets. She sat awkwardly across the dining table. “What a peculiar predicament we find ourselves in.” <br/>“That it is.” After another drawn out silence John spoke again “I weren’t following you. I’m not sure if it was coincidence but I don’t believe in fate either. I don’t know how I came to show up all the places you were but I am certain I ain’t ever saw your face before Bulls Run. I’d remember.” </p><p> </p><p>  Velda relaxed a bit “Yeah an old scarred up face ain’t easy to forget, I reckon.” “I didn’t mean- I weren’t-“ “It's alright Mr. Marston I know it’s a bit jarring to look at. I seen you staring at it and looking away thinking I ain’t notice.” John’s cheeks went red with a slight shame. “Well go ahead and ask, no sense in playing games.” <br/>“Wha-“ “Enough playin’ dumb, John it’s unbecoming.” She pushed her long thick strands from her eyes and behind her ears making the scar across her forehead visible. “It was a hunting knife. That feller Ernie Hooper, the one I killed, he tried to scalp me. Said he knew some folk that’d still pay a pretty penny for an Indian scalp. Soon as I got the chance I shot him dead.” </p><p>  John just sat uncomfortable for a while and Velda allowed it. “Enough of that. Why don’t you tell me why you’re not with that gang of yours.” John stood and went to a cabinet grabbing a bottle of whiskey. <br/>“It’s a long story.” She chuckled, smoothing her skirts as she walked towards the man. She flicked his hat up with her finger, grabbing the bottle. <br/>“Well John Marston, it looks like we got a lot of time.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Booze and other sins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>May 2nd 1896<br/>  After the bottle of whiskey was gone no talk of why John left the Van der Linde gang ever surfaced. Velda was too excited to have a new friend and companion to speak to openly. Even John enjoyed the company, being able to be himself without someone calling him an idiot or a fool. They laughed and told stories, encouraged by the drink. They weren’t thinking about how the law was after them and Velda wasn’t worried about looking behind her every minute. </p><p>  “My father fooled my cousin Tala saying it was tradition to drink the blood of his first hunt. And the dumb bastard actually took a sip! We couldn't contain our laughter! Tala was livid!” Velda wheezed and John clapped his knee, the both of them barking with laughter “What happened next?”  He asked. Velda stopped laughing and shook her head ending the conversation there. John nodded standing up to look in the cabinet again, this time grabbing a bottle of gin. When he turned around Velda stood mere inches away. He was taken by surprise. “Thank you John. For helping me with Henry and his brother. I don’t make a habit of needing to be saved but I truly appreciate it. Thank you.” John almost lost his balance as she grabbed him by the waist and hugged him tight. Feeling uncomfortable he patted the top of her head and she released. “No need to thank me. Weren’t nothing.”  </p><p>  Velda had started to sway back and forth as the drink took hold. She blew a strand of hair from her face. “What? Yesterday you’s was calling me pretty now ya can’t even hug me?” John took his hat off setting it on the table as he sat. “That was before you robbed me.” She laughed as she plopped into the wooded chair and took a swig of gin. “Sorry about that.. again.” John rolled up the sleeves on his black button up. “I’m glad you didn’t do it again while I slept last night. Plus I’d be lying if I said I ain’t ever picked a pocket or two.” </p><p>  When the gin was gone Velda was at risk of loosing her supper. John was going off about women, Velda too drunk too argue. “Y-yer d-drunk.” She hiccuped. “No you. You’re drunk.” She smiled a toothy grin and started to giggle she slumped to the side, falling out of the chair and on to the wood with a loud thud, making her laugh harder. John stood up and swayed as he started to kneel down. Her skirts were gathered high revealing her legs all the way to her drawers, more whip scars wrapped around her calf’s and up her thighs. John frowned and leaned to scoop the woman off the floor. </p><p>  She squealed as he lifted her. Knowing she’d feel foolish in the morning for acting like a child she leaned into his chest. Happy that for the first time in many years she was able to act like a child. That time having been stolen for her. “You smell like a campfire.” “Sorry” he laughed as he set her on the lone bed in the cottage. “No I like it. It’s nice.” </p><p>  John laid out his bedroll at the foot of the bed, laying down as his surroundings started to spin. Just as he was on the cusp of slumber he heard Velda obnoxious whisper “Pssssst! Hey John. Hey so- okay so why aren’t you with the gang?”<br/>He scoffed and rolled towards her “I had a woman. She had a kid but he ain’t mine. I got tired of being told to be a man so. That’s about it.” Velda huffed, satisfied enough with the answer. “Oh okay. Goodnight, friend.” <br/>“Goodnight Miss. Vee.” The quiet cottage was filled with the sounds of drunken snores while outside stood two bounty hunters taking up post in the dense forest. Binoculars scanning over Johns mare.<br/>“It’s him.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dun dun DUUUNNN</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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